


The Humours of Whiskey

by knife_em0ji



Series: God's Gonna Cut You Down [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (but not /really/ bc that's kind of skeezy to me), Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Banter, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Coming Untouched, Communication, Could probably be read on its own?????, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Dwalin is A Top(tm), Extremely conveniently placed lube, Extremely non-canonical wrt GGCYD I'm just a dumb horny bitch, M/M, Mild Kink, Outtakes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Size Difference, Size Queen Bilbo, This is only like my second time writing smut please be gentle with me and don't expect too much, like all things i wrote this for Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knife_em0ji/pseuds/knife_em0ji
Summary: Well, this might as well happen,Bilbo thought fuzzily, the whiskey starting to sit warmly in the base of his stomach.Adult life is already so goddamn weird.[Extremely Non-Canonical outtake fic for my epic length slow burn Bagginshield fic,God's Gonna Cut You Down,because I like having fun. Takes place after Dwalin has the fight with Thorin, and Bilbo finds him sulking in the attic. They still have their nice conversation, but then Dwalin slightly misinterprets a signal and things get heated. Bilbo, lonely, emotional, and embarrassingly horny, accepts whatever comfort he can get, especially if it's from a good-looking friend whom he trusts with his life. Pretty self contained pwp, so you could probably read it on its own.]





	The Humours of Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> SO HEY !!!! I had a little bit of a bad mental health spiral, and then I went to visit relatives, so unforch the next chapter of GGCYD is still in the works. But I wrote this???? lmao. Anyway, if you're just here for the rarepair porn without having read the other fic, which is totally valid, here's a quick and dirty rundown of fairly nonspoilery-context:
> 
> It's the zombie apocalypse, and the gang is going to Erebor, a former Soviet state that's been restored to its status as a monarchy, to try and stop the plague. Bilbo has thoroughly fallen for Thorin, and while the king returns his feelings, he's been in a bad headspace and has been in a two week feud with Dwalin, who is his best friend and right hand. So it's very much of a mutual pining situation. In the meantime, it's also complicated by the fact that Bilbo has convinced himself that Dwalin and Thorin are together, but because of their fight they haven't been acknowledging it openly. Speaking of, Thorin and Dwalin just had another huge blowout, and Dwalin's been sulking in the converted attic of the house they're squatting in, drinking most of Bilbo's bourbon. Bilbo goes to talk it out with him and bring him dinner, because he's nice like that. It devolves from there. Also at one point they played a pickup game of shirts and skins soccer in the rain, but that's not important.
> 
> So. Please accept my humble offering. I'm still suuuuuuper new to writing smut.... I did it once (the main sex scene in ggcyd lmfao) but now I've gone mad with power. But still. Please be gentle with me and don't expect too much.

He squeezed Dwalin's shoulder for emphasis, almost expiring of surprise when Dwalin brought up one of his own huge, calloused hands to cover it.

_ God_, Bilbo thought. _ He's so drunk. Will he even remember this? _

Then a small, intensely horrible part of Bilbo whispered, _ I wish he wouldn’t. _

What?

He internally reeled the second the thought came to mind. Where on Earth had that come from?

“Hm. Maybe you’re right,” said Dwalin, haphazardly squeezing Bilbo’s hand once. “You know, you might be a better man that I first judged you to be, Baggins.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Bilbo whispered hoarsely. Dwalin’s huge, rough paw was intensely warm over his much smaller hand.

Dwalin gently took Bilbo’s lifted Bilbo’s hand from his shoulder and regarded it for a long, silent moment. It wasn’t quite a glare, but his gaze held an intensity that had Bilbo’s palm beginning to sweat in Dwalin’s grip. It was surprisingly gentle, but firm in a way that would force Bilbo to tug at his hand if he wanted to extricate it. The thought of doing so didn’t even cross his mind. 

Dwalin looked up, fixing Bilbo with a strange sort of stare. Bilbo froze in place, barely daring to breathe.

Dwalin snorted. “Y’know, you remind me of a scared rabbit sometimes, Baggins,” he murmured. His voice seemed to have dropped an octave, the noise rumbling from somewhere deep inside of his barrel chest. Bilbo gulped.

“I-I… I don’t...” he started. Blood rushing in his ears, Bilbo’s words abruptly withered and died. His throat constricted of its own accord as he registered the searing nature of Dwalin’s gaze.

“But you really surprise me on occasion,” Dwalin continued in that low rumble. Sounding almost like two stones grinding against one another, it promptly turned Bilbo’s insides to jelly. Dwalin’s steely gray eyes bored into his, seeming far more lucid than they had been just a second ago.

Tightening his grip, he tugged harshly on Bilbo’s hand.

Bilbo squawked as he flew forward, landing with a thump against Dwalin’s hard pectorals. While his one hand was still clutched in Dwalin’s, the other came to rest against the man’s heart, which was also thudding through the smooth cotton blend of his tight-fitting black combat shirt. Bilbo felt his own pulse throb in tandem, pounding in a wild, frenetic rhythm against the interior of his ribcage. He gaped, lips parted slightly and eyes impossibly round as he panted for breath.

“Mister Dwalin,” Bilbo gasped around the lump in his throat. His hand burned where it lay in the other man’s grip, and he was intensely aware of every ridge and bump of Dwalin’s incredibly built torso where it rubbed up against his own chest.

Dwalin’s free hand quickly came up to gently grip his chin, holding him in place as he tilted Bilbo’s face toward his own. 

“Hush. Don’t you think we’re past that ‘Mister’ stuff?” he asked lowly.

Utterly bewildered, Bilbo subconsciously licked his lips as he fished for something, anything to say. Dwalin’s eyes tracked the movement intently. 

Bilbo’s mind stuttered to a halt.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Dwalin moved his hand to Bilbo’s neck, using its sheer broadness to grip the side of it while his thumb rested proprietarily under Bilbo’s chin, stroking softly. Stunned, Bilbo just let him do it, swallowing convulsively. His adam’s apple bobbed under the heel of Dwalin’s palm.

Dwalin sighed, letting out a long breath through his nose.

“Ach, Thorin’s going to kill me,” he muttered softly. He almost sounded resigned. 

Bilbo remained mute, his thoughts twisting into a wild, tangling jumble as he tried to parse the situation. Dwalin shrewdly regarded Bilbo, eyes roving over his expression.

Then, after a long, silent moment, he said, “Finders keepers, I suppose.”

Bilbo didn’t have time to even spare a thought for what on Earth _ that _was supposed to mean, because Dwalin promptly surged forward, dropping Bilbo’s hand so he could wrap his other arm around his waist and haul him into his lap. Bilbo’s legs spread wide as he was forced to straddle Dwalin’s thighs, but he hardly noticed due to the force of the chapped lips that were currently smashed against his own.

Almost on instinct, Bilbo’s arms flew up to wrap around the other man’s neck. Heat exploded in his stomach as he pressed himself against Dwalin, his whole world narrowing down to the furious movement of the other man’s lips against Bilbo’s. Dwalin kept an iron grip on his neck, forcefully angling his head so their noses didn’t bump. The manhandling almost immediately sent a zing of arousal careening down his spine. Mind awash in static and the faint buzz of liquor, it was all he could do to open his mouth as Dwalin insistently licked into it, his tongue tasting heavily of bourbon.

Dwalin totally dominated the kiss, which honestly was just fine with Bilbo. He could barely keep up with what was happening anyway, at all times. It was a relief for someone else to take the lead; it left him with enough sense of mind to notice how nice the brush of Dwalin’s beard felt against his own his own smooth chin.

_ Well, this might as well happen, _ he thought fuzzily, the whiskey starting to sit warmly in the base of his stomach. Dwalin was a very nice looking man, after all. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but good company, and perhaps even something of a friend. And Bilbo had seen him with his shirt off—if the king simply wasn’t so distracting all the time, Bilbo would have definitely taken some private time to discreetly ponder all of those rippling muscles.

_ Thorin. _Thoughts of the king rose unbidden in Bilbo’s mind. The image of his beautiful blue eyes was like a bucket of cold water being thrown over the entirety of Bilbo’s body, stunning him into stillness.

Dwalin noticed him freeze. He immediately broke the kiss, drawing back from Bilbo in an attempt to give him some space. His eyes searched Bilbo’s face in concern, thick brows furrowing. 

He had a small scar cutting through one of them, Bilbo noted. He had never noticed it before. It suited him.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” asked Dwalin in a low murmur. His voice was painfully gentle, like Bilbo was a spooked horse just on the edge of bolting. He softened his grip on Bilbo’s neck, rubbing it comfortingly.

Bilbo desperately grasped for words, his hands coming to clutch at the fabric stretching across Dwalin’s impossibly broad shoulders. The image of Thorin flashed across Bilbo’s mind once more. Something in his chest constricted in agony.

Dwalin simply waited patiently as he struggled to get his thoughts in order. He was gazing at him with such kindness, but Bilbo could plainly see that previous heat still simmering just below the surface of Dwalin’s placid facade.

“N… no,” he said after a moment. And it was the truth. Achingly touch starved, he longed for the closeness that came with physicality. His last partner—other than his own hand and fingers, along with the toys he kept in a discreet drawer by his bedside—had been a one night stand he had met in one of his old haunts in Soho before the pandemic. A quick shag devoid of any friendliness, Bilbo had been forced to get himself off after the guy hadn’t even bothered to give him a reach around after fucking him. He hadn’t stayed long afterwards, though now he sort of regretted it. What he wouldn’t give for the casual intimacy of a post-coital smoke, no matter how awkward it was.

“But there’s still a problem,” Dwalin surmised, easily reading Bilbo’s indecisive expression.

The fact that he knew Dwalin, and that he was apparently willing, and that he was a friend whom Bilbo trusted with his life went a long way in convincing him that this was not the worst idea in the world. However, the fact that Dwalin had just got done admitting that he was in love with Thorin… well. That was a whole different kettle of fish.

“What about His Majesty?” he asked.

Dwalin’s expression turned stormy, his grip on Bilbo’s neck tightening perceptibly. “What about him?”

“You’re in love with him,” Bilbo muttered, feeling vaguely shattered.

Dwalin’s expression cleared as his eyebrows rocketed toward his nonexistent hairline. “I’m _ what? _” he asked, completely baffled.

“You literally just said you loved him,” Bilbo replied, now feeling thoroughly confused himself. 

Dwalin smiled suddenly, his thick beard rippling with the motion. It lightened his whole face, softening the harsh lines that cut creases around his eyes and forehead.

“Ha! No, no, not like _ that_,” Dwalin laughed. It was a pleasant sound, like the crunch of smooth pebbles that had been heated in the summer sun. “Tried it once. It didn’t work out.”

“Oh,” said Bilbo dumbly, unsure how to respond. He felt like he had whiplash, emotions wandering one way before immediately being jerked in the opposite. But more than that, he felt a strange sort of relief, one that he felt unprepared to examine too closely.

“We might still fool around sometimes, but nothing near exclusive,” Dwalin continued, tongue still evidently loosened by drink. “Only for when Thorin gets too worked up and needs a firm hand to force him to calm down.”

The other man continued to smile sardonically, but all of Bilbo’s faculties immediately ground to a halt at Dwalin’s incredibly blithe admission.

_ A firm hand. _

A million images, all of Thorin and Dwalin in increasingly compromising positions, suddenly flashed across his mind in quick succession. _ Thorin on his knees, eyes wide and adoring, blue barely visible around the extreme dilation of his pupils. Thorin's pink lips parted, puffy, and slick with spit, luminous beneath his beard. Thorin with white decorating his sharp cheekbones, the delicate bridge of his nose, his mussed beard. Thorin bent over a table, legs kicked wide and fingers scrabbling as a tattooed hand held him down roughly by the back of his neck. _

It was everything Bilbo could do not to moan as blood immediately raced to his dick, slightly tenting the front of his trousers. Dwalin smirked at him, and Bilbo desperately tried not to squirm as the same tattooed hand from his fantasy traveled from his waist to rest lightly on his ass.

“Do you like that?” Dwalin growled lowly, his grip on Bilbo’s neck tightening once again. However, despite the heat of it, his gaze was also assessing, as if carefully gauging Bilbo’s reactions. 

“Like what?” Bilbo gasped dizzily, head spinning from his sudden onslaught arousal.

“A firm hand,” Dwalin murmured. “Or do you just like the thought of Thorin, spread out and absolutely begging to choke on my dick? I know how you look at him.”

Bilbo did whimper at that, bucking involuntarily against the now uncomfortably tight confines of his trousers. He silently urged Dwalin to do something, _ anything_, but the man remained completely still.

“I need an answer, Baggins.” Dwalin’s expression was deadly serious.

“Bilbo, call me Bilbo,” he wheezed, clutching frantically at any part of Dwalin he could reach. “And both. I like both.”

Dwalin smiled. “Thought so.” He hauled Bilbo impossibly closer by his grip on his bottom, forcing Bilbo’s clothed hard-on to grind roughly against his own. Bilbo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he felt the size of it, keening involuntarily as his mouth immediately began to water.

“Oh? Bit of a size queen, are you?” Dwalin rumbled, ducking his head so his lips brushed the sensitive shell of Bilbo’s ear. Bilbo gasped at the feeling, both at Dwalin’s lips and at the brush of his beard against his cheek. “So’s Thorin, when he’s in the mood. Absolutely gags for it. A little like you’re doing now.”

“_Please,_” Bilbo panted, not knowing quite exactly what he was asking for.

Dwalin ignored him, moving both his hands to Bilbo’s pliant hips and forcefully setting a rhythm to their haphazard grinding. Bilbo felt his legs spread impossibly wider as they were compelled to accommodate the width of Dwalin’s hips. He held on for dear life, feeling like he could come at any second.

“He’d go wild, you know,” Dwalin huffed quietly into Bilbo’s ear. “Seeing us together like this. Wouldn’t know who to be jealous of, me or you. He’d be so confused. Just drop to his knees right then and there and wait with his dick rock hard until I told him what to do.”

Bilbo moaned aloud, the fantasy clouding his mind as he felt the front of his underwear grow wet with precome. He could almost _ feel _ Thorin’s electric gaze crackling into his back, and it took everything he had not to come then and there at the mental image of Thorin on his knees, hair neatly braided as a flush sat prettily across the bridge of his nose. His chest would heave wildly as he panted for ragged breath, huge biceps flexing and fists clenched on his thighs so tightly that his knuckles would go white. His Majesty’s jeans, with their impeccable tailoring, would do nothing to hide his arousal as his hips twitched into the empty air.

Dwalin chuckled lowly as if he could read Bilbo’s thoughts and thrusted roughly against him. Bilbo spasmed in his hold with a low groan, letting out another gush of precome that would further ruin his boxers.

“You—you’re going to kill me,” he groaned. Dwalin didn’t apologize.

“Maybe I’d just make him watch,” he said instead. His tone was considering, almost casual, but he refused to abate the violence of his grinding thrusts. “Watch as I worked you over within an inch of your life. Then when you’re spent and dripping, I’d let him fuck your mouth. Or I’d fuck his, depending on what we did. Gets him off just as well. He’s versatile that way.”

Bilbo’s chest heaved with the force of his ragged pants, wishing that Dwalin would stop immediately, but also continue forever. Never in his life had he heard someone say anything so filthy to him, as these were the sort of thoughts that he would usually only ever entertain in his deepest, darkest fantasies, when he was totally alone in his flat. He didn’t know if what Dwalin saying about the king were actually true or just a way to get him riled within an inch of his life, but either way, it was _ working_.

Dwalin seemed to notice him becoming slightly overwhelmed, because he paused suddenly, grip gentling on Bilbo’s hips in an instant.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, rearing back a bit so he could see Bilbo’s no doubt embarrassingly blotchy face more clearly. 

Looping his arms around the man’s neck, Bilbo buried his head into Dwalin’s firm shoulder, shuddering as he breathed heavily through his nose. He felt like he was about to shake apart at the seams. Dwalin soothingly petted his back, which did wonders for Bilbo’s effort to calm down.

After a moment, he nodded slowly. 

“I’m alright,” he croaked. His cock throbbed in his trousers, still agonizingly hard. He shifted, relieved to find Dwalin was as well. 

“Tell me what you want,” Dwalin growled lowly. His tone was authoritative, but Bilbo knew that if he told him that he wanted to stop, they immediately would. That alone made his resolve harden.

“I want you to fuck me,” he whispered into the other man’s shoulder. Dwalin’s hands stilled on his back.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Just us, though.”

Dwalin snorted in amusement. “‘Course. Bed?”

“Sounds good,” Bilbo said, mildly ashamed at how strongly evident the relief was in his voice. Dwalin thankfully didn’t comment on it. Instead, he tenderly manhandled Bilbo out of his lap and onto his feet, supporting him on his shaking legs as they unfolded themselves from the window bench. The bottle of whiskey and Dwalin’s untouched dinner lay forgotten on the floor. 

Dwalin placed his hands gently on either side of Bilbo’s face as he ducked to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Bilbo sighed into it, resting his hands on Dwalin’s inked forearms and deepening it of his own accord. 

They stood kissing languidly as the last vestiges of the sunset winked from the sky, and the room became totally dark around them. The clouds blocked out most of what little moonlight there was, but a thin glow quickly suffused the room, just enough to see by. Bilbo’s hands wandered to the top of Dwalin’s trekking pants, shyly plucking at the fabric of his shirt until it had untucked itself from the waistband.

Dwalin dragged his teeth over Bilbo’s lip before he broke the kiss with an amused snort, extending his arms over his head as Bilbo took the opportunity to wrangle the shirt off of him. After some doing (since Dwalin was a good six inches taller than him, and he seemed pleased enough to watch Bilbo struggle), Bilbo was faced with Dwalin’s bare, extremely muscled torso. As he had seen at the cricket club, it was positively covered in geometric designs and bits of Cyrillic and runic text. Running his hands through the pleasing smattering of hair that started across his pectorals and led below his waistband, Bilbo traced a few with his fingers in the dim light. 

“Like what you see?” Dwalin chuckled, hands moving to undo his belt.

“Yes,” said Bilbo unabashedly, tracing a complicated, interwoven zigzag covering Dwalin’s sternum. “I didn’t get a chance to admire while we were playing football.”

“Yeah, too busy making eyes at Bofur and the king,” Dwalin scoffed, though the remark was decidedly good-natured. He removed his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, reaching down his hands to once more haul Bilbo in by his bottom. He smiled as he felt Dwalin’s hardness dig into his stomach.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Bilbo said with a wide grin, hands splayed on the other man’s chest. He yelped as Dwalin pinched his ass roughly, though he decided that it actually felt quite good. 

“Cheeky,” Dwalin muttered, eyes focusing in on Bilbo’s mouth. He brought one hand up to brush a thumb consideringly over Bilbo’s bottom lip, which was puffy from where Dwalin had bit at it. 

“I’d really like to shut you up,” he said slowly.

Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath, pupils dilating. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. On your knees.” Dwalin’s tone left absolutely zero room for argument.

That was fine with Bilbo. Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor. The wood was hard beneath his aging knees, but that hardly mattered as he slowly pulled the zipper of Dwalin’s trousers down. Gingerly, he untucked Dwalin from his pants and boxers, eyes widening as he beheld the length in his fist.

It was blazing hot, not even fully hard but absolutely massive. Bilbo whimpered as he thought of how it would feel to take it. How amazing it would be, the sense of utter triumph. He ground the heel of his hand hard into his own trapped cock, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

“Wow. You really are a size queen,” Dwalin said. Though his voice was lightly teasing, his nostrils flared in obvious arousal, supported by the way his cock jumped in Bilbo’s hand.

“Shut up,” Bilbo retorted, trying to formulate a game plan. Without much thought, decided to give the underside a long, teasing lick. The tang of salt and Dwalin’s musk exploded over his tongue, and almost immediately it became fully hard. 

“Get it wet,” Dwalin husked, resting his hand lightly on the back of Bilbo’s head and threading his fingers through the curls there.

Bilbo keened lightly at the authoritative timbre. He fit his lips over the head, sucking slightly. Dwalin grunted, fingers tightening in Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo moaned, which caused Dwalin to give an aborted thrust into his mouth.

Bilbo took that as a sign to start sucking in earnest, not really caring if he was being sloppy about it. Finesse had certainly never been his strong suit. He closed his eyes as he bobbed his head, lips and jaw stretched uncomfortably wide around Dwalin’s girth. What he couldn’t fit comfortably he ended up stroking and massaging with his hand.

Dwalin panted, twitching his hips as he edged his cock further into the hot clutch of Bilbo’s mouth. Huge paw fisted in his hair, it was all just on the side of rough that Bilbo loved. He looked up to see Dwalin fixing him with an amazed expression.

“You’re really enjoying this,” he said, voice breathy with wonder. “Careful now.” He experimentally forced Bilbo’s head further down onto his length, letting out a loud moan at the wet flutter at the back of Bilbo’s throat.

Bilbo groaned unabashedly, even as he gagged slightly and spit started to drip down his chin. His jaw began to ache something awful, but he squeezed his left thumb into his fist as he forced himself down the rest of the way. He buried his nose into the root of Dwalin’s dick as he took him into his throat and stayed there, staring defiantly upwards.

“_Mahal! _” Dwalin yelped in shock, eyes still locked with Bilbo’s. Panting like he was running a marathon, his thighs began to tremble under Bilbo’s hands, and he quickly yanked on Bilbo’s hair to pull him off. Bilbo complied, coughing slightly but still smiling as he settled back onto his haunches.

“Good?” he asked smugly. His voice was rough, like he had just gargled aquarium rocks.

Dwalin didn’t answer. He dragged a hand down his face with a groan, hauling Bilbo up by front of his button down. His dick glistened as it hung hard and heavy from his unbuttoned trousers, dripping with precome. He kissed Bilbo fiercely, shoving his tongue into his mouth and tasting himself as he furiously undid the buttons on his shirt. Bilbo could only hold on for dear life as he smiled triumphantly into it, trying to give as good as he got.

“On the bed,” Dwalin growled. “Pants off. Hands and knees.”

Bilbo sent him a mocking little salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

“_Now, _you menace.” Dwalin punctuated the order with a sharp swat on his backside. The unexpected sting made Bilbo bite his lip and mewl.

Bilbo turned on his heel, kicking off his pants and ruined underwear as he scrambled for the twin bed. He kept his unbuttoned shirt on as he settled onto his hands and knees on top of the soft cotton sheets, trying not to shiver as his skin was exposed to the cool air of the attic. Dwalin rummaged intently through the desk behind him, letting out a little grunt of victory as he slammed one of the drawers shut.

“Found something useful?” asked Bilbo teasingly.

“Yeah, unless you wanted to take me dry,” Dwalin said, settling onto the mattress behind him.

Bilbo saw his point, but he couldn’t help the jibe that escaped him. “Convenient. Though I thought the whole point of that earlier exercise was to get you wet?” he asked.

The larger man snarled, roughly knocking Bilbo’s hands out from under him and shoving his face and chest into the pillows. Bilbo squawked in indignation, especially when Dwalin roughly tugged down at Bilbo’s shirt collar, drawing the garment backwards down his arms so they were hopelessly entangled in the sleeves behind his back, effectively trapping them.

“I beg your pardon!” Bilbo exclaimed, though his cock gave an incredibly interested twitch.

“This okay?” Dwalin asked. There was the snap of a lid popping open behind Bilbo.

“It’s fine,” he panted, burying his face into the pillows. It was more than fine, actually. His fingers flexed uselessly behind him. 

A huge, warm hand spread one of his cheeks, and Bilbo jumped slightly at the feeling of slick fingers massaging at his entrance.

“You found actual lube?” he asked, letting out a punched noise as Dwalin’s thick middle finger started working its way in.

“Yeah, and a condom. Some younger person must have lived up here,” Dwalin replied, breathing starting to go a bit ragged. “Mahal, you’re tight. You sure you’re up for this?”

Bilbo groaned, squirming as he became reacquainted with the lovely feeling of being filled. “Positive. Just go slow, it’s been a while.”

“I was planning on it,” Dwalin said, though he quickly added another finger and started to scissor them roughly in a way that revealed his impatience. Bilbo would have laughed, but he was too busy panting into the pillows at the stretch.

Then Dwalin crooked his fingers in just the right way, and Bilbo saw stars. He let out a sobbing moan, twisting his hips back as his cock started dribbling anew onto the bedsheets.

“Oh, you like that?” Dwalin’s voice was something close gravelly purr, his accent growing rough around the words. He twisted his fingers again, the pads roughly swiping at just the right spot inside Bilbo.

“Yes, please, don’t stop,” Bilbo begged. “I need _ more_.”

“Ach, _ absolutely _gagging for it,” muttered Dwalin, though he himself sounded utterly wrecked from arousal. He quickly added another finger, which made Bilbo sob once again.

“Please, please, please, please, please,” he chanted, throwing his hips back onto Dwalin’s fingers. Dwalin suddenly removed them, leaving Bilbo to miserably feel like he was empty and gaping. Dwalin laid a steadying hand on Bilbo’s back, moving to roll on the condom and slick his own cock. He rubbed the head teasingly at Bilbo’s entrance.

“Ready?”

“God, _ please_.”

“Well, since you’ve been asking so nicely,” Dwalin said, beginning to press in. “Y’know, you’re awfully pretty when you beg.”

Bilbo didn’t have the heart to disagree with him, too distracted as he was by the pressure of Dwalin’s cock at the base of his spine. His own dick throbbed angrily, begging to be touched, to receive any sort of friction. He tried to grind down into the mattress, but Dwalin’s hands were like iron grips on Bilbo’s hips, bruising fingers keeping him rooted in place. 

Dwalin finally seated himself fully inside Bilbo, panting heavily. “You good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Bilbo, feeling absolutely sublime from where he was stretched around Dwalin’s huge cock. His whole body somehow felt tense but languid, like a bothersome itch had just been scratched. Dwalin gave an experimental thrust, hissing lowly as he abruptly paused.

“What’s the hold up?” Bilbo whined, wiggling his hips as best he could despite being utterly speared. Dwalin groaned, sounding very much like he had just been socked in the gut.

“You’re so _ tight_,” he wheezed. “Never fucked someone as small as you before. I need a minute.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, trying his hardest to move in Dwalin’s grip. He found that he couldn’t, really. The thought thrilled Bilbo to his core, his dick becoming impossibly stiffer.

“Alright,” Dwalin said after a moment. “Ready?”

Bilbo panted out an affirmative, gasping as Dwalin’s hand moved to shove his head into the mattress as he simultaneously withdrew his hips until just the head of his dick was still inside Bilbo. Then, almost without warning, he snapped it roughly back in. Bilbo keened like a wounded animal.

“_Again,_” he demanded shrilly. Dwalin grunted in acquiescence, seemingly charmed by Bilbo's bossiness.

He set a brutal pace. Bilbo could see out of the corner of his eye that Dwalin’s face was contorted in pure animal concentration, teeth bared and eyes wild as he stared down at the spot where he disappeared into Bilbo. Bilbo’s mind turned to mush as the bed started rocking below them with the force of the thrusts. Though he would later refuse to admit it, tears leaked from his eyes as he nearly started crying slightly into the pillows, he was being so well and truly fucked into the mattress. That sentiment was only amplified when Dwalin’s hand moved from his hair to twist into the fabric at his wrists, using it almost as a handle with which to forcefully tug Bilbo’s body back onto his cock.

Bilbo was in heaven. All thoughts of him being sore in the morning absolutely did not matter. The only thing that did was the insistent brush of the head of Dwalin’s cock against his prostate.

His cock drooled onto the sheets below him as his knees threatened to give out. He mewled pathetically as Dwalin abruptly hauled him so he was kneeling straight up, his back plastered against the other man’s chest with only Bilbo’s bound hands between them. Dwalin continued to snap his hips into him, the new angle causing him to brush against his prostate with almost every thrust.

Bilbo let his head loll back against Dwalin’s shoulder, sweat dripping down his face and chest and dampening his hair. One huge hand came up to rest lightly at his throat and tilt his chin up, a thick arm supporting his torso. He felt Dwalin’s beard and the sharp bite of teeth at the base of his jaw. 

Bilbo felt the familiar coil of arousal build at the base of his spine and cock, and his eyes abruptly popped open.

“I'm—ah, I think… _ ungh_. I think I’m going to come?” he panted in abject disbelief. His dick dribbled like a faucet as his fingers twisted his shirt behind him.

Dwalin’s lips curled at his ear. “Untouched?” he teased, though his voice held a touch of reverence. He snapped his hips even harder, which caused Bilbo to throw his head back with a truly agonized moan.

“M-maybe,” he gasped. “Never done it before.”

“Let’s see it then,” Dwalin hissed authoritatively through clenched teeth, eyes greedily drinking in the sight of Bilbo from over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Bilbo whined, and it only took one more precise thrust on Dwalin’s part to let the dam break loose. Bilbo came hard, ripping a howl from somewhere deep inside him as he splattered his stomach and chest, along with the bedsheets, with spunk. Dwalin made a particularly strangled noise at the sight.

“Mahal, that’s hot,” he breathed. He hunched over to bury his head in Bilbo’s shoulder, digging his teeth into the meat of it as he frenziedly thrust his hips into Bilbo’s now completely boneless body. 

Bilbo felt like he was floating. Dwalin’s hands and the arm around his chest were the only thing keeping him from falling face first into the pillows. Dwalin savagely thrust in a few more times before he abruptly stilled with a low groan, spilling himself into the condom.

Slowly, the pounding of Bilbo’s heart to die down as Dwalin gently unhooked his teeth from Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo turned his head to regard it tiredly. It throbbed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Dwalin glanced at him briefly before kissing it in apology.

“Sorry,” he muttered, beginning the careful process of pulling out. Bilbo said nothing, simply hissing at the slight chafe and wanting nothing more than to collapse.

Slowly, Dwalin lowered them down to the mattress, somehow maneuvering so there was space for both of them on the narrow twin and gallantly lying directly in the wet spot. Bilbo came to rest with his head on Dwalin’s bare chest, humming contentedly as Dwalin rubbed at his wrists, which had begun to rub slightly raw against the rough cotton of his shirt.

Body pleasantly sore and shoulder smarting slightly, Bilbo absently traced a few runes on Dwalin’s pectoral as they lay in slightly awkward silence. 

“So,” he started, not quite knowing what else to say.

“So,” Dwalin repeated with a snort. Trying not to jostle Bilbo too much, he fished for his trousers, extracting his lighter and his pack of cigarettes from a cargo pocket.

“That was… good,” Bilbo said tentatively. Dwalin hummed, sticking one of his clove cigarettes on his lip and lighting it. The burst of warm flame illuminated a small circle around them, banishing the darkness for a warm, light-filled second. It gave Bilbo the wild, albeit distinct impression that they might possibly be only two people left on Earth.

“I’d say,” Dwalin agreed, wreathing the words in sweet-smelling smoke. He passed the cigarette to Bilbo, who took it gratefully. He took a testing drag, finding the botanical aspect of it _ very _ pleasing as the nicotine settled what was left of his jittery nerves.

“Ah. I’m glad,” Bilbo whispered on the exhale. He ducked his head shyly. Dwalin petted his hair absently, and Bilbo found the courage to kiss the hard muscle beneath his head before passing the cigarette back.

Then Dwalin sighed, heaving so violently it almost threw Bilbo off his chest. Something in Bilbo seized anxiously.

“Something wrong?” he asked hoarsely, voice barely audible.

“Nothing,” Dwalin replied quietly. “Thorin’s _ really _going to kill me.”

“You said that before. What exactly do you mean by that? I thought we got this all figured out before we… you know. And that you and he weren’t an item.” A sudden, horrible thought struck Bilbo, one that almost made him sit up, roll out of bed, and walk out into the night, never to return. “Was that not true?”

To his relief, Dwalin took another drag and resolutely shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Don’t worry about it. It’s got nothing to do with you, really.”

Bilbo settled back down, pillowing his head comfortably on Dwalin’s chest. Just one more thing to chalk up to typical Ereborean crypticness, he supposed. He gratefully accepted the cigarette once again. 

“Hum, okay,” he said. “I hope everything works out between you two.”

“Я бы не слишком на это рассчитывал,” Dwalin muttered.

“What does that mean?” Bilbo yawned, exhaling a large cloud of smoke in the process.

“Just don’t expect any miracles.”

Bilbo shrugged, deciding to drop it. He could worry about that all tomorrow, when the sun was up and he’d have to examine his questionable choices in the hard light of day. Right now, he was smoking a much longed-for post coital cigarette, pressed tightly against an impossibly hard body that belonged to a friend he trusted. That was more than enough to satisfy him for now. 

Dwalin seemed to think much of the same, for they laid there in comfortable silence for hours, smoking long into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation notes:  
Я бы не слишком на это рассчитывал [Ya by ne slishkom na eto rasschityval] -- [Russian] I wouldn't hold my breath (lit. I wouldn't count on it too much)
> 
> HURGLES.... yeah. Bilbo isn't a shrinking violet when it comes to this one (1) thing. Anyway. Hope you thought this was.... Something. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Anyway, again, this is EXTREMELY NON-CANONICAL in the fiction of the main fic, so take everything with a huge grain of salt. Thorin and Dwalin might have slept together like once in ggcyd a long time ago, and it was nothing like Dwalin mentions here. They're simply Extreme Work Husbands. I'm just... a dumb horny bitch who loves to multiship and commit criminal crimes. 
> 
> [[lotr tumblr](http://www.nazghoulz.tumblr.com)]


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